If Everyone Cared
by wildsky
Summary: Oneshot. When Superman needs it most, the people he's saved step up to return the favour. Clois. Deathfic.


**Disclaimer: I don't own 'em (unless they're originals). Please don't sue me. It's **_**so**_** not worth it.**

**If Everyone Cared**

_If everyone cared and nobody cried_

_If everyone loved and nobody lied_

_If everyone shared and swallowed their pride_

_Then we'd see the day when nobody died_

"If Everyone Cared" by Nickelback

I.

He was twelve years old when it happened.

He was pulled out of a burning building, covered in ash and coughing up smoke. He watched as his savior doused the flames with one breath and rescued those stranded inside.

"You've done all you can, Superman," he heard the paramedic say. "We've got it."

He watched as his hero flew away into the night, face covered by an oxygen mask, and it was only then that he realized no-one had said 'thank you' like his father taught him.

II.

She was seven years old when it happened.

All he did was pull her cat out of a tree. Nothing remarkable, really, except that it was such a small job for someone larger than life. Smudge was always climbing on things he shouldn't and getting stuck. The feline mewled piteously as he was placed carefully in her arms, favoring his white-furred forepaw.

"I think he hurt himself trying to get down," he told her gently, his blue eyes kind as he scratched behind Smudge's ears. "Be careful with him."

"Can't you fix him?" she asked, blinking up at him with innocence and hope only to see his smile fade slightly.

"No, I'm sorry, I can't," he admitted, sounding so sad that she cuddled Smudge closer. "Why don't you take him to the vet?"

He walked her to her back door and he was gone by the time she told her parents what had happened.

III.

He was twenty-one years old when it happened.

He was mugged in an alley as he took a short-cut home from the library, all for a lousy fifteen-dollars and a brand new credit card he hadn't had the opportunity to use yet. He fumbled as he tried to take it out of his back pocket and the thief thought he was going to try something. He shouted as the knife sliced into his side and white-hot pain overwhelmed him.

The last thing he remembered before he blacked out was flying, being carried as if he were a child in the arms of something red and blue. He woke up in the hospital with a whole lot of stitches and found his mother asleep in the chair beside his bed.

IIII.

"Dad? I think you should read this."

Clark slowly looked up from the marble gravestone and the fresh mound of earth to find his son standing a few feet behind him. Jonathan, with his hazel eyes and black hair, had so much of his mother in him that it hurt to look at him. Yet Clark wouldn't have exchanged that pain for anything the world.

It meant that a part of her was still there with them.

"What is it?" Clark asked quietly.

"It was sent to the Daily Planet. Uncle Jimmy gave it to me."

Jonathan held up an envelope that had already been opened. His father reached out to take it, his eyes falling on the address on the front. His gaze swept over the name 'Superman' on the front and he frowned.

"Fan mail?" Clark glanced up at his son, forcing the words past the lump in his throat. "You're giving me fan mail _now_? Here?"

"Just trust me, Dad," Jonathan replied, nodding sadly before he began making his way to the car where the rest of the family waited.

Clark pulled the folded paper out of its cover and opened it, taking a moment to compose himself before he started to read.

The text was written in strong, bold lettering.

_Dear Superman,_

_My name is Michael._

_When I was a kid, you saved me and the people in my building from a fire. I watched you put out the flames and saw the look on your face when the people were loaded into the ambulances.__ They were hurt and there was nothing you could do to change that._

_Now I'm a fireman. _

The handwriting changed, becoming more flowing and curvy.

_My name is Catherine._

_A long time ago, you pulled my injured cat out of a tree and you were sad that you couldn't heal him as easily as you'd flown to his rescue.__ It was amazing to me that you took the time for something that others would call insignificant._

_Now I'm a veterinarian._

The font altered yet again, becoming more blocky and heavy-handed.

_My name is Peter._

_About ten years back, you stopped a man from killing me in an alley for my wallet. He'd already stabbed me before you got there but you took me to the hospital and saved my life._

_Now I'm__ a cop._

_We know you were close to Lois Lane and wanted to not only express our condolences but to let you know that you don't have to be super __for us right now. It's our turn to be super for you. _

_Don't worry about the fires. We're here to fight them._

_Don't worry about the animals. We're here to care for them._

_Don't worry about the criminals. We're here to catch them._

_For once, let the world take care of you. You made a difference and now we can too._

_Thank you._

Clark stared down at the letter, his vision blurred by tears. His chest felt tight as he went over it again, each word burning its way into his memory. He glanced over at the grave, blinking back tears, and dragged in a deep, shaky breath.

"You hear that, Lo?" he murmured, the simple sentiment warming his heart. "They're saving me."


End file.
